Maybe she would let him ride her surfboard sometime. He is super sure that she is The One.
When we last saw Surfline Man, his girlfriend had left him, which was sad.
But Surfline Man bought a new midlength and set big goals for his cutback. Sure, he misses his girlfriend, I mean, she was pretty great!
But his cutback is feeling so good lately.
Even better, Surfline Man spotted a cute girl in the Swamis parking lot. Maybe she would let him ride her surfboard sometime. When he saw her, he felt something and he’s pretty sure it wasn’t the burrito he had for breakfast. He is super sure that she is The One.
Now, if he could just meet her.
In search of new horizons — and hopefully, the cute girl at Swamis — Surfline Man recently moved to Cardiff. So tired of the whole Trestles scene, brah. Fucking circus, gotta get out of there.
Also, his ex-girlfriend’s parents owned the house, so that was a problem.
Set on his new course, Surfline Man packed up his quiver, every last one, including the yellowed, super thin shortboard that he hasn’t ridden since high school. It turns out Surfline Man is the sentimental sort, at least when it comes to surfboards.
Finally after several trips, he’s not about to admit how many, he moved out of his ex-girlfriend’s house into fresh digs of his own. Sure, he doesn’t have any furniture — his ex owned all the furniture, too — but at least there’s plenty of room for his boards.
A whole garage!
A man could go far with a whole garage.
Right now, Surfline Man should be buying a bed at West Elm or something, but he’s not. Surfline Man needs an ebike so bad. He could get to Swamis so fast! No messing around with parking, just boom! Right there. He is on the internet, furiously searching.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man with a garage must fill it, ideally with many gadgets of mixed utility.
Eventually his shiny, new ebike arrived on his doorstep. It’s a Rad Power Bike, they’re the best, you know, he said to one of his new friends in the Swamis parking lot. Kelly Slater has one just like it at Surf Ranch!
Each day, Surfline Man zips up to the Pannikin on his rad new bicycle. I mean, it has rad in the name! How could a boy resist?
By now, he had become a regular at the Encinitas landmark, whose ancient, creaking Victorian architecture spoke to something deep in his soul. He wasn’t quite sure what, but it spoke to him, totally.
It’s such a cool scene, you should come down and hang! He told all his old friends back in San Clemente. It’s the fucking best!
There he sits, sipping his Chai Latte on the lawn out front, scouring the scene for cute girls, and infinite scrolling through Instagram.
By this point he had also managed to acquire a bed and some other assorted furnishings, nothing that matched, because really, he couldn’t be bothered with such things.
Life is too short, brah, a chair is a fucking chair.
What he hadn’t managed to do is find the cute girl from the Swamis parking lot. Surfline Man was starting to wonder if she ever existed at all.
Was she just a dream? He could not rule out this depressing possibility.
There is only so much Rad Power Biking and Chai Latte drinking a man can do. Even worse, his ex threw out his sourdough starter one night in a fit of, well, something. He can’t even make bread any more. All that time practicing his kneading, it’s all gone to waste.
To make matters worse, the surf proved relentlessly, impressively flat. All the colors and graphs and pictures couldn’t hide the terrible reality. There were, in fact, no waves. And no waves coming any time soon.
He had a new midlength to ride, a cutback to improve, and a cute girl from the Swamis parking lot to find.
The universe was totally not cooperating! Like at all.
There is only so much Rad Power Biking and Chai Latte drinking a man can do. Even worse, his ex threw out his sourdough starter one night in a fit of, well, something. He can’t even make bread any more. All that time practicing his kneading, it’s all gone to waste.
Desperate, Surfline Man decided to try running on the beach. Going to the beach to run would be almost like going to the beach to surf, he reasoned.
But running made him uncomfortable. His knees started to hurt. Sweat appeared in places he preferred not to think about. Really, running was very disappointing. He did not think he could do it for even one more day.
And he did not see the cute girl from Swamis.
This was honestly, a bit of a relief, because Surfline Man did not feel at all at his best, while running. Maybe it was possible to look suave as fuck huffing and panting and sweating through a beach run. But not for him, he felt quite certain.
Then one day, he walked down to Seaside Market to buy a sandwich and maybe some other things. They sell surf wax there!
This makes him feel more things, mostly sad things, as he remembers how all the charts and all the graphs show such an enduring lack of surf.
In a desultory way, he wandered the aisles. Maybe he should cook something tonight. Fuck it, he’ll just order pizza. Pizza understands.
Then he saw her. The cute girl from Swamis! Right there in the Seaside Market!
Fresh-faced and glowing, she stood at the deli counter and waited for her kale salad. She wore some kind of athletic thing, like lululemon or something. Surfline Man can never keep these things straight.
But she looked even cuter right there, up close, in the Seaside Market, than she had in the parking lot at Swamis.
He tried his best not to stare.
Really, he did.
I mean, he’s not like some kind of creep or whatever. But Surfline Man is only a man.
So he fake-casual browsed the sushi rolls, while totally staring at the cute girl and desperately summoning up a friendly, not at all weird way to approach her.
His brain froze. Why is life so impossible, sometimes?
I think I saw you at Swamis a while back, he says. You have a sweet Ryan Lovelace board, right?
She looks surprised. And then she pauses, as though deciding whether to answer. The cute girl from the Swamis parking lot does not typically talk to random men in the grocery store.
She looks at Surfline Man, assessing.
With his floppy blonde hair and day-old scruff, he is earnest and awkward, like a golden retriever who bounds around the house, knocking shit off the table, just wagging his tail.
This vibe totally saves him, though he doesn’t know it. Whatever else he may be, Surfline Man is not creepy.
Yeah, I mean, I think that was me, probably, she says. I haven’t like been surfing much lately, though. It’s so flat.
It is! he answers eagerly. I think I’m like starting to lose my mind, in fact. I tried running but it kinda sucked. I don’t really know what to do now.
She looks at him again. He really does seem kind of sweet.
Do you ever do yoga? she asks.
I’m new to town, so I haven’t really figured out where to go yet, he says, hoping she doesn’t notice he’s totally lying. His ex used to try to get him to do yoga.
There’s a cool Bikram studio in Encinitas, she says. I usually go early in the morning. It’s just such a great way to start my day!
Maybe I’ll see you there sometime, he says, trying to be casual and totally not succeeding.
What’s your name? I’m Casey.
Trent. It’s super cool to meet you, he says.
Cool, yeah, she says, smiling.
Casey, the cute girl from the Swamis parking lot, picks up her kale salad, long since ready, and waves.
He watches her walk away, he can’t help himself. Of course, she totally knows he’s watching.
Surfline Man pays for his sushi rolls. He doesn’t even like sushi, but whatever, he met the cute girl from the Swamis parking lot! He buys a block of surf wax, just for luck, you know.
Then he saunters into the warm, golden California light, trying his best to play it cool, but totally not succeeding. He met her! He can’t even believe it.
He figures he’d better buy some yoga clothes that don’t look too bad, and Surfline Man needs to find the Bikram studio in Encinitas. For a man who tracks swells on many-colored graphs and such, this all seems like a pretty straightforward thing.
Surfline Man feels certain the internet can solve all his problems.
He just hopes yoga doesn’t make him too sweaty.
He has a cute girl to impress!
